A Day For Redemption
by Bitumz
Summary: They were a mess of checks and balances, deep regrets, and tender forgiveness. In both life and death. Elena/Elijah. Takes place within season 3. Three-parter.
1. Faith

A/N:  
Elena/Elijah three-parter.  
A small warning that this may hit tender spots in the next two chapters.  
This ship may have sunk long ago but fear not!  
I brought life rafts.

* * *

_~  
Falling slowly_  
_eyes that know me_  
_and I can't go back_  
~

* * *

It was always about the little things. The parts of a woman most men would look over in search of the more commonly sought out attributes. While she carried the unrelenting natural beauty of her ancestors, to him, it was the way her voice of reason reached his ears before she spoke; how she tucked away his promises deep beneath the determined cross of her arms over her chest and kept them there faithfully. And in the warmth of her eyes; he'd never seen a sight so magnificent as when they lit daringly with her negotiations, as if she didn't already expect his compliance to whatever obstacle she chose to throw in his path. As if he were no threat to her at all.

He had always held a tender spot for such a fire.

What he hadn't expected was for her to match him in the skill of observation to an almost unnerving level. It was a trait normally lacked by her kind; not to mention by those her age… so young and restless, but with the likes of a practiced conqueror placed before a challenge once believed insurmountable, not a flowering woman. And he had been the one to align the stars that connected the two, conqueror to challenge, though he had walked into her life with it all backwards; with every intention of bringing it to an end for his own gain.

At the time, he did not care whose face she wore. It would not have mattered. This he swore to himself, and at the time he had never been one to go back on his word. Words were all he had left. But he was met with an unbelievably strong willed surprise. His impressive clutch of the English language had never failed him so entirely as when he she directly called him out for caring.

Of course she would pick that from the century's worth of history and family secrets he had entrusted her with. How easily she saw past it; lifetimes worth of darkness and betrayal and death and she questioned only his heart. Never his mistakes. He'd never felt so embarrassingly vulnerable in his long life, though he had somehow managed to conjure enough control for it to show only in the slight tightening of his fist around the fabric of her jacket before he released it over to her. Had it been solid, it would have splintered in his hand.

Not once did he imagine becoming so moldable. It was not in his nature. Plans were meant to be followed and deals were to go unchallenged, especially when they came as courtesies from an Original vampire. But he learned quickly that Elena Gilbert had never been one to allow her own life to flow smoothly. How could he hope to expect anything different in accordance with his own?

So what little fear there was in her eyes at their first few encounters faded entirely over time and with every cock of her eyebrow and whip of her gentle, convincing tongue, he broke shamelessly in her healer's hands. His will to protest was cut off each time by her smiles of victory. His command became her fuel. His reasoning, her heartbreak.

A system of checks and balances; assurances and something real to hold on to in a time where the concept of trust ran thin elsewhere. Where ever she chose to take the conversation he would follow, admittedly somewhat staggered by the tender compilation of wisdom and integrity that flowed from her in constant stream, though the complexity and balance of such traits so greatly surpassed her years. She told him the stories behind each of her scars before taking the time to find each of the cold spots within him; dug for them, fighting with gentle encouragement and fierce stubbornness to warm them enough so that he could no longer hide beneath their depths. The mask that slipped so easily over his features took a bit more coaxing, but even that melted away with the ungodly amount of patience the girl was gifted with.

Admiration easily overpowered the touch of frustration that came with exposure.

And before long, their talks of plans and strictly business visits grew into something much more. They were breaths of fresh air to an immortal who held no need of such a trivial reflex but longed for it, just the same; like green leaves to light, he found he grew within the glow her brightness.

They were treasured minutes that flowed past into unnoticed hours of intelligent conversation and the twisting of words and lips into sly smiles that his eyes would linger on for a bit longer than customary; breathtaking phenomenons under such circumstances.

Unknown fears over hot tea and troubles just as they became apparent upon one another's features. They were morning walks through the gardens that lasted well into the setting sun. Evening perches on a window seat well after her eyes had slid closed from exhaustion.

Promises that he would be there when she awoke.

And even a single, quiet admittance that it was the only way she could maintain a sound night sleep with all the waiting and worrying.

Somewhere around then was when the stinging began.

At first it was tolerable, proving to be nothing more than a sharp jolt of regret every time she accidentally reminded him that her troubles were every bit his fault. So he began to test himself; first letting a few of her calls slip through his fingers. Then going days at a time without reveling in her presence (to her knowledge, at least) to see if he remembered how to do so … To see if it helped either of them.

Though never did she fully leave his watch. Just in case it was time.

In doing so, when the time finally did arrive, he found he'd cursed himself with the coveted front row seat of Elena Gilbert's demise. Watching the circles grow deeper and dark beneath her eyes and the tenseness refuse to leave her body, even as the sun rose higher in the sky ridding the night of its onslaught of mystery. Standing still as stone along the tree line as her own family was murdered before her eyes. Watching the blood be drained from her by an unrecognizable monster he once called a brother.

And he _ached_ with her, the fire spreading hot from his chest, through his bones in molten swells of damnable self-loathing.

The idea of having to watch her deteriorate in such a way is what had led to the false promises in the first place. The ones that swore no harm would come to her from his family. That he would even see to it personally.

The ones that bent, and bit back, and broke everything.

Sure, she'd crossed him a time or two but that was child's play in comparison to his sins. He'd kept her alive but he'd failed to stop her life from being taken from her. He might as well have promised her the beautiful world he wanted nothing more than to provide her with, only to break it carelessly between his palms and hurl it down upon her in shards of piercing hail.

She had told him once that being crossed and lied to by brothers she once believed would hold her heart higher than their selfish endeavors was becoming a common occurrence. She had shed tears right there in front of him and he could do nothing about it from his distance. And he, being the masochist he'd become the very first time his heart had been ripped from its chest cavity, had given himself the silent challenge right then and there to be the one to show her how a true gentleman handles his priorities if he ever got the chance to.

But history had a knack for repeating itself. And for the first time in his immortal existence, he did not have them entirely straight. He grew so painfully aware of it so suddenly... So far, _far_ too late.

So he left.

Only after knowing for certain that a life free of Mikaelson's was the last and most precious gift he could leave her with after everything he'd let happen. This time without notice. No notes, no visits, no more slip ups. Because he was sure that if for some maddening reason she requested he not leave her side, he never would again.

He swore he felt the space within his rib cage grow emptier with each rotation of the car tires over pavement but he mashed the pedal down dangerously close to its limit anyway because he deserved every bit of it. Every gnashing bump and pebble along the road jolted him back from mind numbing thoughts and it was during those times that he fought an internal battle much harder than any time he'd ever had to wield a sword and shield.

He didn't know it yet, but a phone call a few hours later would put that particular feeling to shame.

A few trembling words from his sister would flip his reasoning and reality upon itself. They shattered his nerves and his heart in a way that reminded him it had, in fact, been found by a girl he had single handedly escorted directly to an untimely death. Not to mention the steering wheel, leaving the once sleek vehicle in an unrecognizable pile amongst the brush alongside the road. The exertion of pent up rage had been a necessity and he thanked whomever laughed down at him from above that foreign steel and unkempt woods had been the only things within his reach at that moment.

It was his fate, it seemed, to lose everything he ever cared for. Klaus had made sure of that from the start. To have ever felt even the tiniest sliver of hope of being able to open his heart to another was a sickening farce that sent restless hands raking through disheveled hair in an uncharacteristic show of incomprehension. Because he was far beyond lost. Neither the power behind his years, nor the insight from his endless experiences could have prepared him for this.

He spent a long time sitting, defeated in the protection of the trees that still stood. He intricately cursed each one of them. Cursed the birds that sang much too happily from their protection; the sun for having the audacity to shine at a time such as this. He cursed the Salvatores for not having the ability to do a single damn thing right. Klaus, for pushing them all to this point in a show of imagined power. And his foolish, _selfish_ little sister for following so blindly in his footsteps.

But none on them faced his wrath so much as himself. His own mind tore into him in ways weapons never could; laughed at him for holding on to the faith he held for his long lost family. Reminded him that no matter who else he tried to place the blame on, he had been the one to put the hefty price on an innocent girl's head. Made her a pawn, placed the spotlight upon her, and left her standing alone smack in the middle of his family's wicked games. He had once believed that vampires were incapable of feeling sick to their stomachs. Though he was growing more and more convinced that believing in anything was what led him to right where he sat.

But he owed her far too much to return to his old ways.

So he returned to her side, instead.

* * *

**Epigraph: **_Falling Slowly - Kris Allen_

Feedback is a writer's fuel!


	2. Reprisal

~  
_Moods that take me_  
_and erase me_  
_and I'm painted black_  
~

* * *

The familiarity he held with the locked door still ensnared him at the threshold.

It had taken every synapse worth of control he had left to not rip it from its hinges. He could have easily forced his entrance. He had been invited in after all. But that was too many mistakes ago to even matter anymore. The onslaught of arguing voices coming from just beyond it almost matched the ones that filled his head.

So, he collected himself in the time it took his fingers to slip closed the middle button of his jacket before placing three reasonable knocks against the starched door. The same one that would crack open just enough for one careful eye to test the intentions of whoever it was that chose to visit. Only moments later, they would soften and the protective barrier would be replaced with the secure declaration of his name on soft breath and a warm smile of relief.

Now it framed a scornful grimace; one he had grown accustomed to being in the spotlight of whenever in the presence of a Salvatore, though more predominantly the elder. One he would have found a sickening amount of satisfaction in had the situation been anything aside from what it was. He held no patience for childish jealousy now.

Damon's tense form shifted to fill the doorway.

"You should not be here," he spoke as if the home had been his to command from the very first time he stepped foot in it; though he held that regard towards all things he believed he claimed, it seemed.

"And yet, here I am," Elijah fought to hold countenance over the spark of frustration that begged him to disable the younger vampire from having the ability to speak another dull word. "It seems I cannot leave you alone for five seconds without the world going up in smoke."

He caught the slight tightening of Damon's hand along the edge of the door; watched how he leaned back as his words took edge and dug beneath his skin. He had failed at the one thing that mattered most to the callous Salvatore, and if Elijah accomplished only one thing by coming back to the town that destroyed him, he would be sure that Damon knew it for the rest of his days.

In a blink, the door was being slammed closed between them.

Elijah's palm caught it just before it met the hinges, easily overpowering the force pushing it shut.

This young vampire was one of the luckiest creatures he had ever held the displeasure of encountering and would never know it. For reasons unbeknownst to him, Elena held a spot in her heart for both Salvatores; Elijah had learned that quickly from their talks, and it was for that reason alone that the door between them was not quickly turned into provisional stakes.

Elijah pushed it open instead, using the surprise on Damon's face to his advantage as he purposefully brushed passed him and crossed the threshold with no magical barrier to stop him.

Apparently Elena had not filled at least one of the brothers in on everything. He almost smirked.

The living room had not changed much since he'd last been in its warmth but the familiar faces that filled it did so with a deep sadness.

The football player, Matt, rested in what looked like a very uncomfortable position in the arm chair, his head leaning back and brow drawn in troubled slumber.

The best friends consoled one another on the couch, Bonnie's eyes still puffy from past tears and Caroline's arm draped around her shoulders. The blonde's eyes questioned him harshly, always the fierce protector. In sharp contrast, a look of sheer sickness crossed the Bennett Witch's face before she looked away at anything but him.

Stefan paced just behind them, scotch in hand. He looked disheveled; a darkness settling beneath his eyes and panic edging his gaze, as if he had just woken up from a nightmare. He stopped short at first sight of Elijah, his jaw setting squarely and expression falling somehow blanker.

Stefan acknowledged him flatly.

Elijah fully entered the main room and did not return the favor. There was no need for further decorum.

"Where is she?"

The front door was swiftly slammed shut before the elder Salvatore chimed in from a distance he must have considered safe.

"Not with us, clearly. But she would be if it wasn't for you and your damned family issues."

The anger behind the declaration was pointed and raw.

Elijah blinked at its weight, keeping his eyes firmly on the glass Stefan held a bit tighter in his hand for fear of breaking yet another promise to Elena should he divert his attention elsewhere.

"Sadly, I do not have time to chat," he admonished the elder with only his voice, hoping the younger would keep his head, as metaphorically as possible at such a time. He dipped his brow. "Do not tell me you left her to rest where you failed her."

He watched his words break Stefan; his left eye wincing and refusing to relax as if he truly felt pain.

"Don't pretend we're the only ones that did," Damon accused again, proving that he'd felt it too. "All of this could have all been ended long before it got so out of control…"

"I only did what she asked," Stefan answered him as if his brother had not spoken; always the more reasonable of the two. "Matt was in the car too. She wouldn't let me save her until he was out."

Elijah could feel the air leave his chest. There it was; all of her stubborn beauty and reckless compassion. How could he possibly have expected it to happen any other way? She'd martyred herself, refusing help before her friend was aided. It was every bit maddening, and unbelievable, and Elena Gilbert.

He moved his gaze to find the blonde boy still sleeping away in his chair. Exhaustion, no doubt. He wasn't sure if it was right to suddenly hold a deep rooted hatred for him just for happening to be in the car that night, but reasoning had long since been forgotten.

"It wasn't his fault," Caroline confirmed severely from her perch on the couch.

Elijah's jaw flexed. The building fire in his chest must have shown on his face. Never had his restraint felt so nonexistent. Of course it wasn't the kids fault. If he was entirely honest with himself, the Salvatores were not to blame either. He knew that Stefan would have given his own life for the girl and Damon would have given that and everyone else's. It was the only trait that made them useful (and even somewhat relatable, though he would never admit it aloud).

Rebecca had run Elena and Matt off the road; For that, she was guilty, but even so Elena could have been saved if what Stefan claimed was true.

Elena had put this on herself. It was her own fault she was gone.

No, it was her own decision.

It was always her.

"She should be waking soon."

Damon's quiet words snapped Elijah so forcefully from his reverie that he shifted his weight to face him.

A heart wrenching silence filled the pause as comprehension quickly plagued him and Elijah took a measured step in the Salvatores direction. Then another. It was like the ritual all over again, but this time there had been no failsafe. Nothing to keep her from becoming a monster like them. She never would have wanted this. She had told him so once and he was sure the brothers knew better as well.

"What have you done?" His command lit the room in white hot fire as he steadily approached and Damon fell back. "You forget your place…"

"Elijah?"

He froze mid-step and for a beat his eyes slid closed. Never in his long life had he experienced an art as beautifully crafted as his name so feebly whispered by a soft, familiar voice he believed he'd never hear again. It had come from upstairs, just barely reaching even his pristine ears. The second room on the left. His nightly post and daily torment.

The heat in him burned cold in an instant and before it was even fully out, he was at her bedside.

* * *

**Epigraph:** _Falling Slowly - Kris Allen_


	3. Redemption

_~  
You have suffered enough_  
_and warred with yourself_  
_It's time that you won.  
~_

* * *

Her eyelids were heavy things over her eyes as she let them fall closed a single, slow time before they just barely reopened, unfocused.

For a moment Elijah was rendered immobile, only able to take in the peacefulness of sleep on her face, the soft rise and fall of her chest, and the quiet beating of her heart. He could smell blood; her own, surely coming from injuries lying just beneath her tattered clothing, and another on her breath. Stefan's. He had tried to heal her but had been far too late. The irreversible damage had already been done by his selfish elder.

"Elena," Elijah breathed, watching as she struggled to coax her lips into the shadow of a smile. It was meant to be reassuring.

Before he could protest, the room began to fill up, Damon and Stefan rushing in with matching mixtures of scowls and angst on their faces, an excited "_Jer, she's awake_" coming from just beyond her bedroom door, and the rest of her friends filing in at the claim.

The scene unfolding before him was one that made him feel so distanced, yet he had bared witness to similar circumstances far more than he liked to admit to himself.

They each held their own form of hope. He could read the lie of it upon their smiles and the relief in their embraces. He had felt it too once, long before he'd been cursed by blood and steel and had his family ripped apart. Hope was a wretched thing, meant to reassure with false promises and unrealistic optimism.

Yet, he couldn't admit to not feeling something as he watched her tired eyes take in the information, Damon and Stefan taking their turns presenting their cases to her; pleading their sentiments and stringing together arguments for why there really was only one option for her to take from here.

He watched the horror touch her eyes at the exact moment she grasped what was happening to her. What they had forced upon her so unjustly, as if she had been nothing more than an object to uproot and possess instead of something alive and growing and beautiful.

He placed suddenly restless hands into his pants pockets.

The small movement pulled her attention to him. Her eyes finding his and holding strong after all she'd been through was a new kind of torture that he couldn't decide if he was sturdy enough to handle just yet. It both distanced him further from the others and caused him to feel like he actually held some right to be standing at her bedside. He did what he could to hide himself under the weight of her gaze. She searched his face. The stares from the others felt much harsher in comparison, but he could not find it in himself to care.

"Give us a minute," Elena spoke quietly, turning to give Jeremy a soft squeeze on the arm before glancing between the brothers at the end of her bed. "Please."

After a long moment, Stefan nodded resignedly, standing from his perch on the corner of her bed. He looked to his unmoving brother. Blue eyes shot a look of unhindered disgust to Elijah.

"Just one." He followed the others out of the room, pulling the door shut a little harder than necessary behind him.

The air thinned substantially and the room fell silent apart from the slight quickening of her heart. Elijah stood unmoving against the wall beside her window seat and watched the flickers of discomfort cross her face as she shifted to sit higher in the bed. He wanted to move, to aide her in some way, but it was far too late and he was afraid he would lose entirely the façade that was his self control, leaving him to fall to his knees in desperate pleading and the same shameful depths of the Salvatore brothers.

"You're here," she said softly amid the process, her struggle displayed clearly in her tone, though it lacked the reassurance or abhorrence he was half expecting to hear in its undercurrents.

"You do not seem surprised."

She sighed back into the pillows.

"I've learned to take things as they come." The smallest bit of cynicism creased the corners of her eyes before they met his in earnest. "That just leaves the why."

It was an excellent question and though gently declared, the size of it was unexpected. It shook through him like quakes in the earth.

There was no time for more lies.

"Penance." Elijah shifted away from the wall and stood straight. His eyes tightened a fraction. "I left town believing my family's shadow would follow me," as it had for far too many lifetimes to track.

"It didn't" Elena returned, soft and fast, and he just as quickly lost grip of every word in his eloquent vocabulary. He was learning fast that that trick belonged entirely to her.

He let his eyes stray from the damaged look on her face before it reached him. It's not like he hadn't known it was coming but even so, it scorched all the way to bone.

He was a monster, sure, but a reasonable one. There had been no further reason for him to stay. That was the lie he'd let push him from the small town that held the stripped remains of his heart. Neither it, nor history had ever been kind to those he kept close, so he had finished the task he'd returned for and left before he thought anyone else would get hurt in his name.

"Where _were_ you?" She leaned in, pulling him from his thoughts. Her voice cracked over the word and splintered through his chest, effectively driving home just how wrong he'd been.

When he met her eyes again, the look in them brought back images from that dark night in the field.

"Elena…"

She went cold before his eyes.

"I needed you to keep your word. To keep my family safe..."

"You want more lies?" He broke in, a dark burst of frustration edging his tone, entirely caused by his own faults. He'd tried with every nerve ending in his body to end his brother's life. There was a time when he was sure she would have been understanding of his hesitance but it had long passed. He had never meant to be dishonest with the girl, but found he always was. He paused to compose himself. "They would not do either of us any good."

She fought something. He caught it in her eyes just before they fell to the blanket at her waist, the way they livened with fire and unshed tears that her own unrelenting stubbornness would not let fall.

She was achingly beautiful.

"I don't see how disappearing was any better."

It _wasn't_. His jaw tightened. He cursed himself internally. Why did it always seem to take her sacrifice for him to see his mistakes?

"I did not come here to argue with you."

"Then why did you come?"

_Because I thought I'd lost you._

Elijah had to catch himself.

He'd come back because he was led to believe the young woman that had breathed life back into his decrepit soul had perished from existence, true. But he had also returned blinded by rage to reap a slow and torturous havoc upon those who had failed her, wanting to inflict the same pain on them that he would feel for the rest of his days.

A partial truth was better than a lie.

He cleared his throat.

"Rebekah called me soon after the accident to inform me of her… futility. What my sister did to you is unforgivable Elena," though he couldn't deny understanding the logic behind her reasoning.

Elena's life had been linked to the last real threat in existence to an Original vampire. His little sister had been running for all her life and was tired of it, though the lack of compassion and rashness of her actions showed that the terrible company she chose to keep near her had rubbed off. Her misguided faults would be dealt with at a later date, should she be foolish enough to come anywhere close to him in the near future, give or take a century.

He relaxed his jaw.

"I came back to survey the damage."

Something turned over in her head. Her lips turned up just barely at that and her demeanor seemed to lighten a fraction before his eyes. She had always been one to make light of his formalities.

"I'm glad you did."

He listened to her heartbeat more than her words, half hoping to hear the telltale skip of untruthfulness.

Anger would have been the best outcome, he thought. If she was angry with him, he could have walked away from this knowing that at least part of his reasoning for leaving had not been in vain. Next was disgust; the most natural and expected response after everything she'd faced at his hand. But of course that's not what she cast at him. Only sincerity in her words and the depths of her warm eyes and he swore to himself right then that he would marvel no other wonder of the world in the same way as he did the soft blush that rose to her cheeks under his lingering gaze.

It tore past his mask and moved him, lifting both his spirit and his feet from the floor as he stepped to turn and sit carefully on her bedside. He habitually unbuttoned his suit jacket without looking down and angled himself so that she never fully left his sight.

Elena watched him just as fixedly, the innumerable queries and questions she had flicking across her face until something seemed to strike her harder than the rest.

"I died Elijah," she spoke softly, undoubtedly knowing as well as he that intruding ears strained to hear their conversation from the floor below. For a minute she fell silent. He used it to roll the sound of his name on her voice over in his mind a second time. "And this time there was no magic potion to wake me back up."

Elijah heard the words she couldn't say.

"This was never supposed to happen to you." He spoke carefully. Her alluring soul was one far too young to be staring death in the face for a third exhausting time. A part of him had never felt so ungrateful for resenting his own forced fate. She did not deserve the same.

"I think it would have sooner or later," her chin fell. "I think I knew from the beginning what I was getting myself into. I just never imagined it happening quite like this. Their love for me dulls their better judgment so much..."

"Or perhaps they are just idiots." He spoke a fraction louder, finding a speck of satisfaction in the thought of the Salvatore brothers scowling ridiculously at the roof.

The corners of her lips rose. It touched her eyes and she shook her head at him. The torment that was surely waiting for him downstairs would be every bit worth it.

"I could really use your help."

_Again._ Her hesitation earned her the entirety of his attention. He didn't fail to notice that it wasn't a question. Never once had she outright asked him for anything more than his company and he didn't expect that to change anytime soon. It briefly took him back to better days.

Only minutes ago, he would have never imagined her wanting anything else from him again. She could've asked for the world and he would happily bear its weight upon his shoulders. A sign of relief from her in any form would be his own liberation. But she wouldn't ask and he wouldn't beg.

"What troubles you Elena?" He ignored the sharp bite of irony.

Whatever it was still sat heavy on her brow, darkening her expression in a way he found he did not like.

She shifted, placing her right hand flat against the bed and holding her left out to him. It wasn't what he had expected, but whenever was it really?

He took her outstretched hand into his, carefully helping her to sit up. It brought her much closer to him, their knees almost brushing together due to his angle.

Only after he was sure she was stable did he release her from his hold. Elena caught him off guard by holding onto his fingers with just enough gentle force to make her intentions painfully clear. She was an anomaly he'd wanted so badly to grasp onto but when she so suddenly gave him permission he was left at an unfathomable loss.

His hand came to rest in both of hers at her lap. Her calm heart beat steadily in her chest. Her bravery knew no bounds.

"I need you to promise me something," her whisper was all air. "Between now and the time this is all over, I just know they are going to try something reckless. I'm not sure what, or how, or even who but it's going to happen." Her eyes burned into his. "Please don't hurt them too badly."

He had heard her heartfelt plead but that's not what captured his concentration in an iron grip.

"You've made your decision then." It wasn't a question so much as a solemn revelation.

"I have." She nodded. Her fingers absently traced patterns under his palm. "I knew a long time ago what I would choose if it ever came to this."

He'd known her decision too, long before she'd spoken it aloud. It did not dull the ache.

"And what of your family?"

A sardonic huff escaped her.

"Family?" She frowned. "You mean Jeremy. Our entire family is dead because of me. My curse should not have to be his too. He will grieve, but he will also finally be safe."

The bit of worry edging her eyes showed her struggle in fully believing her own words. It was a strong front, always the courageous protector. The bluntness of the topic was new, but to his absolute chagrin, Elijah could not deny that she spoke the truth. Without the spotlight of the doppelganger hovering over the small town, the Gilbert boy would disappear from the wide spectrum of those hungry for leverage.

He closed his fingers securely around hers.

"He will. I will see to it."

The kid would want for nothing in his life. Elijah had taken her word and her trust and led them straight to this. What kind of man would he be if he neglected her silent dying wish?

Her eyes slid close, a new type of agony etching across her face. When they opened, they were glass.

"Why?"

_Because I've failed you enough. _

A heavy tear rolled to her cheek.

He answered her by catching it, his thumb sliding lightly across her cheekbone, fingers finding loose locks of her hair.

She leaned into his touch as fluidly as if it were instinctive, her eyes falling closed again, effectively hiding her view from the wounded look he was sure slipped onto his face with her reaction. Always had she so easily fallen victim to his support. Always so thoughtlessly had he offered it to her. A double edged sword that cut them both.

It twisted a little deeper when she finally looked back at him.

"You don't owe me anything Elijah."

Fire scorched just beneath his skin at just how wrong she was. He tried to ignore it, focusing on the soft brown locks between his fingers.

"You know your heart betrays you, yet you still try," he reprimanded lightly.

She sobered, reaching up to pull his hand from her face and into her own, now claiming both.

"You don't deserve this any more than I do."

Their locked hands trembled ever so slightly and he couldn't be sure of the source because her pulse stayed slow and true.

He did owe her something. An apology that would long outlast their diminishing time.

"I forgave you the moment you walked through my door."

She'd caught him off guard again.

He almost slumped under the balm of her words, not knowing till then just how badly he'd needed to hear them. They tore past his mask and pulsed in his chest like his long forgotten heart.

"Why?"

The desperation was a palpable thing.

Elena freed one of his hands, using her fingertips to smooth out the drawn line of his forehead in a way that only she would ever be granted permission to do. He was an Original vampire after all. Untouchable and unmatchable in all other aspects of life, apart from his endless duel with this immovable human girl.

Only when his jaw unclenched did she let her hand fall.

"Because I need one last thing from you Elijah."

Her forgiveness was worth so much more than she bargained it for.

_Anything._

His eyes locked onto hers.

"Anything."

She leaned forward, her warmth radiating through him from where she stilled mere inches from his face, and he so overwhelmingly longed to close the distance between them once and for all.

"Will you please guard the door?"

There was dark poetry in her request, once feeling burdened with her borrowed life, only to be left entrusted with her peaceful death. The time in between had changed him into someone unrecognizable, mirroring the cautious eyes that pinned him. He wouldn't know what to do when he lost his reflection.

The thought became the driving force behind the lingering kiss he pressed against her hairline.

"You're ready, then?"

It was an honest question, ghosted against her skin. He knew the lot below would be anxiously waiting to tear down the door with their disapproval but it was not like Elena to let go so easily.

She nodded softly toward him and when their foreheads met, she stilled and dropped her eyes, relaxing against him.

"I'm tired Elijah. I don't know if I could make it through all the goodbyes and that wouldn't be fair of me would it?"

It was a dishonest diversion. He'd heard so clear enough. But that's not what she needed so desperately to hear from him right then.

He reached behind her shoulders, moving off the bed to guide her back down against the pillows.

Heavy-lidded eyes blinked up at him and he knelt at her bedside to ease their strain.

"Rest lovely Elena." _Please don't go_. "I will be here when you wake." He lied just as shamelessly. More to himself than to her. "You have my word."

_My heart._

A languid smile curved her lips.

"I know."

Elijah watched it fade as her blinks grew longer and longer and her eyes fell closed with a finality that would have sent him into a panicked frenzy had her soft draws of breath and murmuring heart not been there to lull him.

He distanced himself some, he had to, in fear of what he may do when the melody came to close, drawing the curtains shut before settling back to his original post on her window seat. Protecting her still from the evils this life had to offer by ridding her of it. It seemed fitting that the only favor she had ever asked him for would haunt him for eternity.

He vaguely searched for himself in the length of her full body mirror but only long enough for him to meet hollow eyes.

They fixed on her door instead.

* * *

_**Epigraph:** Falling Slowly - Kris Allen_


End file.
